But Anthony was oblivious to the glow. All he could see was Natalie’s face. He shook his head, laughing at himself. Amazed at this newfound confidence.

He fell asleep smiling. As he slept, several things happened. Not only was all the cracked and peeling paint on his apartment walls miraculously fixed by morning, but the leaky faucet in the bathroom was silenced for good, and the toaster that always burned his morning toast was somehow fixed, too.

Anthony woke up with the dawn on Saturday morning, blinking his eyes blearily as the sound of bird-chirp drifted through his bedroom window. Was it his imagination or did they sound more harmonious today? Normally it was a racket that prompted him to contemplate avian violence. But not today.

He shrugged and made his way to the kitchen, thinking of last night’s success. He dropped two pieces of toast into his toaster, forgetting (again) that it was broken.

He didn’t notice something was amiss until his toast popped back up. Perfectly browned, not burned at all.